


Bisector

by prairiecrow



Series: Geometry [18]
Category: Knight Rider (1982), Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Assassination Attempt(s), Betrayal, But He Regrets Every Moment of It, Dark Jack, Ethical Dilemmas, Friendship/Love, Hope, Ianto's Duties, Jack Harkness Backstory, Jealousy, KITT is Capable of being Exceptionally Cold-Blooded, M/M, Marriage, Memories, POV Ianto Jones, Regency Clothing, Regret, Requited Love, Sacrifice, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, The Dark Side of Telepathy, Threesome - M/M/M, True Names, Truth, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:44:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto Jones is prepared to do the honourable thing: to witness Jack's marriage, to offer all the right congratulations, and above all never to risk marring Jack's happiness by breathing a single word about his own misery. He's prepared to return to Torchwood's dimension and face the years to come alone, with only the memory of his lost love to sustain him. </p><p>Jack, however, may not be prepared to LET Ianto do the honourable thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Despair

Ianto Jones walked away from the music and the light, the dancing and the laughter, away from sparkling joyful celebration into the hushed darkness of the vast Western Balcony of a Dragon King's palace, on a world whole universes away from anything he'd ever known. He walked to the balcony's edge, where everything was cool and quiet and he could pretend he was, himself, nothing but a shadow — silent, solitary, and destined to vanish with the inevitable coming of the dawn.

Alone at last after a whirlwind day of emotionally draining events, Ianto laid both hands flat on the elaborately carved marble railing, tilted his head back, and gazed up at a summer night sky full of alien star patterns — and one set of closely paired moons, sailing the ebony sea in glorious tandem. Twenty feet below his feet, carefully tended gardens full of exotic trees and gorgeous flowers stretched to the forest line one hundred yards away: the brilliant swirls of colour were currently muted by moonlight, but Ianto had appreciated them in all their artistry during yesterday's tour of the grounds, graciously provided by the Dragon King's Chief Seneschal. _We are honoured beyond measure that the General has accepted our invitation to host his wedding reception_ , she had reiterated several times, until Ianto had frankly found it a bit sycophantic — and profoundly disrespectful to Jack, who'd been standing right there and who was, after all, one half of the equation in question.

But that had been almost thirty-two hours ago, and Ianto couldn't deny that today Jack was receiving his full due: he'd been honoured, pampered and deferred to (even if most people were doing it because he was General Knight's soon-to-be-husband rather than for his own sake), and now, as the General's duly bonded husband, he was being feted at a high society ball packed with the brightest military and political lights in the Revolutionary Alliance. Ianto, who hadn't even been able to contribute to the organization of the event (KITT's Adjutant and the King's staff had taken care of all that), had little else to do tonight but wander the glittering crowd with a drink in hand, silently listening in on conversations and keeping an eye out for Jack…

Ianto closed his eyes as the night wind ruffled his neatly combed hair, and he sighed from his aching heart, because Jack had been impossible to miss: magnificently dressed in finest neo-Regency style, tall and broad and strong and dazzling, shining with a light of joy so intense that everyone else around him looked dim and dingy by comparison. His first dance with KITT, the traditional "blind minuet" wearing elegant eye-covering half-masks, had confirmed that the _khana karr_ telempathic bond was functioning exactly as it should — starting at opposite ends of the long polished parquet floor, they'd found their way unerringly through the figures of the dance to each other, and Jack's smile when he'd swept KITT into his arms at last had been —

Funny, how one's heart could soar and break at the same time. Ianto, watching from the second row of the audience behind a trio of Mechan politicians, had seen the newly bonded couple embrace in front of four hundred spectators and felt in his bones the truth that the elaborate marriage ceremony in the Temple of Love's Eternity hadn't quite driven home: that Jack and KITT were united now beyond anyone's power to untie, and in their case the word _forever_ was no mere poetic flourish. 

It had been the instant of demarcation between one era and the next — the split second when Ianto had truly understood that his day in the sun was over, and a long cold night was coming on. Jack was going to stay in this universe while the rest of the Torchwood team returned to their own version of Earth: gone forever, leaving his friends to mourn. Faced with the choice between KITT's world and his own duty, he'd chosen KITT, and now…

Ianto bowed his head to stare at the marble railing between his hands, which were gripping the stone more tightly than they had been a few seconds ago. Sixteen days remained before the harmonic convergence occurred that would allow John Hart to take them all back home — sixteen days for Ianto to suffer in silence while watching Jack and KITT settle into their bond and their new life, happy beyond the power of mortal speech to convey. 

Sixteen days to drink Jack in from afar, absorbing every nuance of him as a meagre store against all the years of loneliness to come…

A wave of sensory memory washed over him: last night, Jack's bed, Jack's smiling kisses and thick tousled hair and warm musky skin, so _masterful_ , so _male_ , so _perfect_. Ianto had never known what it was to hunger for another man's body — until he'd met Jack, who had a way of bending rules the way a black hole bends gravity. And he'd certainly never thought he'd find a love he'd be willing to die for twice in one lifetime… yet there Jack was, and all Ianto could do was watch him, and tend to his every need, and fuck him while keeping all words of devotion tightly closeted in his heart. It wasn't in his nature to make emotional declarations, and even if it had been, it wouldn't have made a difference: Jack had always been clear that he was only interested in fooling around, so Ianto couldn't even claim he'd been tricked into this relationship with false promises. No, he'd fallen in love knowing full well that it wouldn't be reciprocated. He had nobody to blame for his present predicament but himself.

Alone, on a moonlit balcony in a King's palace on an alien world in an alien dimension, trying not to wallow in self-pity — and failing miserably. 

 _It's not fair!_ His breath caught in his chest and he closed his eyes harder against the sting of rising tears. _I loved Lisa, and I lost her — God, the horror of it! — and now… now it's happening all over again!_ He shook his head, drew another deep breath, then tipped his head back again to stare at the sky through a blur of wetness, as if the cold stars might hold some answer he'd missed. _Stupid — I should have known better — he never cared about me , not half the way I cared about him, and now —_

 _— now he's so happy it's practically obscene, and I'm left with the short dirty end of the stick._ A bitter snort of laughter that almost made the tears spill over. _As usual. Ianto Jones, neat and quiet and efficient, always cleaning up everybody's messes — including his own — without a single trace of human feeling…_

Because that was exactly what he was going to do. He was going to keep his mouth shut. He'd smile when he was supposed to, and offer all the right congratulations, and listen to Gwen and Tosh — and maybe even Owen, if pigs were destined to fly — talk about how much they'd miss Jack, and he'd never breathe a word of the unbroken screaming in his own heart. That was his job, and with one conspicuous exception he'd always performed his duties to perfection. 

Well, he'd learned his lesson. Love wasn't going to trip him up this time, although the irony of it was that love itself was the strongest padlock of all on his closet of secrets. He'd do nothing to risk marring Jack's joy in his new marriage, and if anybody else (say, John Hart) tried to interfere they'd have to get through —

"Ianto." A soft smiling voice from behind him, in the archway leading back into the ballroom. The warm affection of its tone scored him to the quick, so swift and painful that he nearly screamed after all. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to."


	2. Seduction

Ianto's breath hitched again with a pang of conflicting emotions, and he pretended to cough into his fist as a cover for quickly wiping his nose before pasting a small polite smile on his face and turning to face Jack, all the while praying that it was dark enough out here to hide the wetness of his eyes. He knew the sight was only going to make him ache more keenly, and he was right: even silhouetted against the light from the ballroom, his features cast into shadow, Jack Harkness managed to be utterly and breathtakingly handsome. Like Ianto, he was dressed in neo-Regency style, but where Ianto merely felt awkward Jack looked like a fashion plate: a neat royal blue and gold-embroidered cutaway coat over skin-tight cream breeches, gleaming knee-high black riding boots, and a rich fall of artful white lace at his throat and his wrists. He was still crowned from the marriage ceremony, an exquisitely crafted gold circlet adorned with emerald enamel leaves and clusters of tiny red and white enamel roses, and the jewelled clasp that held his collar closed — a single large synth-ruby engraved with the crest he and KITT had chosen, a stag's head with the eight-pointed Morning Star shining between its seven-tined horns — was no less bright than the flash of his smile and the gleam of his roguish blue eyes.

Looking at him, Ianto felt his own heart break all over again. _I shouldn't have any regrets: I got one last hour with him, last night. I got to say goodbye the way I wanted to, even if I didn't actually_ ** _say_** _goodbye in so many words. But it_ ** _was_** _goodbye, and now…_

His gaze, running over Jack's perfect figure in an automatic check that everything was fitting as it should, turned perverse and lingered on his former lover's groin just a little too long: that mouthwatering bulge, quiescent now, but oh God, the urge to walk up to Jack and rub it with his open palm, to fall to his knees and press it with ardent kisses through those indecently tight pants —

He had to close his eyes briefly, forcing the images down so savagely that he felt something else inside him tear open and bleed. **_No_** _. He's not mine to touch. Not anymore, if he ever_ ** _was_** _mine, even a little._

Aloud, brightly, he said "Ah," and "Well," and "Just thought I'd get a breath of fresh air," all the while thinking: _I still want to touch him, he's a married man now, I've got to stop looking at him like this!_ And much deeper, a darker thrill of dread: _Please God, for once let him be so preoccupied that he isn't really looking at me, that he doesn't see —_

But Jack was cocking his head to one side, his eyes narrowing fractionally as he gazed at Ianto keenly, and at his temples a faint blue light awakened and glowed, as delicate as a flare of cobwebs under his skin: he was transmitting what he was seeing to KITT, and they were holding a telepathic consultation. Ianto's faint hopes of having his teary eyes and too-free gaze go unnoticed sank into the pit of his stomach and evaporated. He braced himself for a rebuke, transmitted from KITT through Jack, or at least to be cut dead…

As usual, Jack was full of surprises. He glanced past Ianto to the balmy summer darkness beyond the balcony, and simply said: "It _is_ a beautiful night."

Ianto's heart, which had cowered against his spine under the weight of his guilt and shame, dared to beat a touch more freely. Had he escaped after all? He took advantage of the opportunity to turn away again — right now, looking anywhere else was safer than looking at Jack. "Lovely," he agreed. "Absolutely exquisite, these gardens. You know, the Seneschal was telling me that they have flowers here from over four hundred different —"

Under his flow of words, through the shield he was trying to establish, he heard the muted click-click-click of those polished boots approaching him — relentless, right into his personal space. "Ianto," Jack said again, quietly, at his right shoulder. He shut his mouth tight. "Quit kidding around. What's on your mind?"

Close enough that he could feel Jack's body heat. Close enough that he was breathing those damnable fifty-first century pheromones. Close enough that he could turn and kiss him, and he had to physically swallow the impulse before he could force himself to speak again: "I was just — thinking."

"About…?" It was a gentle prompt, but there was steel beneath it.

 _He'll catch a lie — **they'll** catch a lie. But what truth is safe?_ After a couple of seconds of searching, he found it: "About all the things I left behind, back home."

He heard the tiniest shift of fabric: Jack was tilting his head back, his dark eyebrows drawing together as he pretended to tote up a list. "Managing the files, archiving alien artifacts, cleaning up the team's messes…"

Ianto nodded wordlessly. _Too close, oh God, Jack, get away from me…_

A shrug. "Keeps you busy, anyway."

He didn't trust himself to do more than nod again. His hands itched with the need to reach out and grab warm flesh; the rest of his body felt cold and empty and painfully lost. If he just stayed strong, if he resisted this last temptation —

"How about happy?" Jack prompted.

Ianto's mind, already half-blind with want, stumbled badly. He certainly hadn't expected that question. "Beg pardon?"

Jack leaned a little closer and enunciated each word clearly into Ianto's right ear: "Does. It. Make. You. Happy?"

The caress of Jack's hot breath against his skin was as effective at derailing his train of thought as ever. It took him a few more seconds to collect himself enough to muster a somewhat even-toned response. "I've made out all right so far."

Jack's voice, soft as a tiger's paws concealing razor-sharp claws, sending little hot shivers up and down his spine: "That's not what I asked. What _have_ you got to go back to?"

"Well," Ianto said, gripping the balcony railing like grim death now, "I was right in the middle of that major archive update, and —"

The weight of Jack's hand on his left hip stopped him in his tracks. "You know what I mean," Jack whispered —seductively? What kind of game was he playing? "Stop pretending you don't."

Ianto's breath was coming faster, yes — but now it was with something colder than lust, something rising like annoyance — no, like _fury_. Jack had never cared for him half as much as he'd deserved, and now Jack was treating him like a toy, to be batted around on the end of a string just to see him dance. "I have a job to do," he said tersely, and turned his head and shoulders enough to look Jack straight in the eyes before firing each word like a bullet: "And frankly, so did you."

But Jack didn't look angry at being attacked. In fact, he was smiling as if he'd just won a key point in a friendly argument. "Gwen's run the show before — she can do it again, and you told me yourself she was spectacular at it."

He didn't want to think about that, those dark days when he'd first thought Jack was gone forever. That pain was far too close to present torments. He bit back a growl of indignation and forced himself to speak in level tones. "Those weren't my exact words —"

"Do you want to go back?" Jack countered.

 _Fine! That's how it's going to be, then._ He almost looked away, but managed to meet Jack's gaze squarely and answer with equal bluntness: "Don't have much choice, do I?"

"Ianto…" That warm strong hand curving around the left side of his neck, turning him in place, then joined by Jack's left hand, cupping his jawline and gently bracing him to look directly into Jack's smiling eyes.  "Of course you have a choice. You've _always_ had a choice."

If the question about his happiness had made him stumble, this inexplicable declaration was like falling down a long flight of stairs in the dark. He stared, his rage vanishing in an internal storm of confusion and disbelief… but at last he managed a single word: "What?"

"Stay here," Jack offered while the glow at his temples signalled KITT's telepathic presence, "with us. I may be just the Black General's husband now, but I'll still need a good factotum." His smile turned rueful. "You know me: I can't keep my own head on straight without you around."


	3. Proposal

"Me?" Ianto could barely speak through the haze of shock. "Stay here?"

"With us," Jack repeated, still smiling. "I need a personal assistant who knows how to handle me." He kissed Ianto softly — on the mouth, lips slightly parted in a way that couldn't possibly be innocent, but Ianto was still too stunned to return the caress. "And when I say 'handle me', I mean that in every way imaginable."

Ianto stared at him, lost for words for a full three or four seconds — or rather, so many words were crowding into his throat that they were all in a hopeless tangle. The ones that finally made it out were: "You're joking."

Jack tipped his chin up, regarding Ianto with a droller quirk of his full-lipped mouth. "It would make you happy, wouldn't it?"

"I —"  _To still have him! To still have life, laughter, hope —_ He reined in the eager surge of runaway emotions with a supreme effort of will. "That's not the point!"

"Actually," Jack said with a trace of impatience, "that's exactly the point. C'mon, did you really think I wouldn't notice how miserable you are? Or that I didn't realize that you don't even have a pet goldfish to go back to in the Torchwood dimension?"

"But." He wanted this so badly he could hardly breathe, but that wasn't enough to make it right. "You're _married_."

Jack's smile turned impish. "Did you hear anything in our vows about 'only having sex with each other, for the rest of eternity'?"

"You…" Come to think of it… "No."

"Here's a hint: the omission was deliberate." Another kiss, tender but full of the old burn, and when he drew back again his eyes were wide and solemn. "I still want you in my bed, Ianto Jones — and in my life. That hasn't changed, and I doubt it ever will."

"I see." Hard to breathe indeed, through the storm surges of conflicting emotions: amazement, disbelief, fiercely shining hope thrilling in his every vein and dark resentful anger starting to roll in his depths: _I was ready to let go, and now —_ "Very convenient for you, isn't it? And what does KITT —?"

"KITT fully approves," a crisp tenor voice interjected from about ten feet behind him, and he startled in Jack's grip: even completely clad in synth-leather and wearing brand new military dress boots, the android could move as silently as a shadow in the moonlight. Jack's gaze shifted past Ianto's face, his smile growing positively radiant, but the stab of jealousy wasn't as red-hot as it should have been: Ianto had, after all, been in this triangle before, and he knew where Jack's deeper emotional passions lay… as if the crown Jack was wearing and the traceries of light at Jack's temples weren't proof enough. "In fact, it was my suggestion in the first place."

Which pitched Ianto right back into the depths of confusion again. " _Your_ suggestion," he repeated blankly.

A chuckle, small and dry, and a steel-boned hand coming lightly to rest on his right shoulder. "Oh, Ianto…. if you could see into his mind and his soul the way I can, you'd know exactly why I made it." Jack continued to hold his gaze while KITT laid his left hand to Ianto's left cheek, and Ianto felt something stirring in the palm of the android's bare hand: several somethings in fact, KITT's needle-thin data extraction tendrils barely caressing his skin. The logical conclusion was impossible to miss, and his heart rate leaped while his breath caught again, this time in something closer to fear. He knew what those tendrils could do, the way they could enter a subject's brain and interface with the subject's mind, willing or unwilling — and although he'd never felt their kiss, he'd seen the results many times. When the subject resisted…

"May I?" KITT asked softly, and Jack, gazing into Ianto's eyes, encouraged him with a small nod. 

Ianto closed his eyes. He forced himself to draw a deep breath. And he nodded, because even now he couldn't refuse Jack whatever Jack wanted.

KITT slipped his right hand round to open against Ianto's upper chest at the hollow of his throat, steadying him, while shifting his left hand to press flat to Ianto's temple. As the tendrils sank home with the tiniest silver glide of pain Ianto had time for one last despairing thought entirely his own: _Why, why do I do it, when it's all for nothing and he'll never —_

More silver, this time a net flowing over his mind — a living web of crystal electricity touching him more delicately than moonlight, illuminating his thoughts for the sentience that filled the web with relentless vitality. His whole body stiffened with a hiss of indrawn breath, instinctively resisting the invasion —

 _//Ianto,//_ the web sang with KITT's voice, and oh, there was such kindness in every nuance of its cold lattices: _//Ianto, no, we love you, let us in…//_

 _Us_ , paired as naturally and inevitably as the twin moons overhead, gazing down on a trio of small figures nearly embracing on an otherwise empty balcony. _Love_ , and some instinct Ianto hadn't known he possessed understood that in this empathic link there could be no falsehoods, at least not when KITT was in command: for KITT, Truth was the ultimate God. 

He exhaled, slow and deliberate and quite a bit shakier than he would have liked.

He consciously opened himself to… whatever was to come.

KITT flowed in like the sea — but not alone, no, never alone now. There was a joyful whirlwind in his wake, a bright storm of dancing fire that made the crystalline waters dance in harmony: Jack, although that wasn't his True Name, Ianto could see that now, although the True Name itself flickered just beyond his reach, a shining jewel too deep in the maelstrom for him to grasp in his profound ignorance of how telepathic communication was supposed to work. He tried to grope for it anyway, but KITT deflected his attempt as gently as a mother holding her baby's hands back from touching a bright flame.

He was flying, falling, drowning — yet completely safe, held between the wings of two Immortals. Wonders indeed, enough for any sane man's lifetime…

… and then Jack spoke his name with bold cheerful ferocity — 

_< <Ianto!>> _

— and the resonance of it overwhelmed Ianto's already struggling senses. It was all there, _Jack_ was there, his warm compassion and his cold-blooded violence, his heroism and his villainy, larger than any life Ianto had ever known, angel and man and demon all in one — 

 _< <Ianto…>>_ Darkly lusty. _< <Ianto…>>_ Melting with tenderness. _< <Ianto…>>_ Nearly pleading, full of carnal love, and Ianto's body started to weep; KITT and Jack both stepped forward at once, bracing him with their own bodies, holding him upright in the darkness as KITT queried:

_//Now you see… how could I possibly take you away from him, Ianto?//_

_< <He would never take you away from me.>>_ Jack was kissing his mouth, small soft kisses that seemed to draw the breath from his lungs, leaving him dizzy as that magnetic voice in his mind pulled him deeper: _< <Ianto…>>_

Wrapped in that mental embrace, he stared into the depths of the man called Jack Harkness. He saw more flaws there than he'd dared to fear, and more glory there than he'd been able to imagine. There was murder there, and bloody violence, and crimes both great and small — enough to make any sane man turn and flee as fast as his legs could carry him. Jack Harkness was exactly what Ianto had called him on that long-ago night when Lisa had finally died: a monster, in some ways the greatest monster of all because he accepted his own evil as a matter of course…

A monster who was laying itself bare, letting Ianto reach out and lay his hand directly on its beating heart, while something more divine by far watched in silence, entwined with the monster's essential substance. Ianto's fingers combed through light and darkness interwoven, a bond set to endure the test of eternity — a bond that was opening itself, between the pulses of a demon and an angel, just enough to offer a mortal life space to dwell within for a brief span of shining decades.

Ianto saw himself reflected in their minds — tall and reserved, resolute and meticulous, a bit chubbier around the edges than he would have liked but still intensely desirable, a fitting companion for board and bed. He sensed a thousand images flashing by but caught only a few: sunny afternoons watching sports, trips to the opera, laughter over shared meals, hours spent in the simple pleasure of togetherness, in all the possible combinations of three bodies and minds. He saw himself and KITT lying amidst tangled sheets, with KITT below him and Jack above; he felt himself moving in KITT while Jack moved in him, while they whispered his name, _Ianto_ , and kissed each other over his sweat-damp shoulder. He saw himself at ease in the same bed, young and older and very old at last, while KITT held his hand in gentle fingers capable of rending steel and Jack pressed a final fond kiss to his forehead, the seal on a life well lived.

In comparison, what awaited him on the other side of the Rift…

A quietly terrifying thought — but Ianto had never been a man who let fear distract him from the facts. He knew he should feel insulted by what they were proposing: a lesser status, a lifetime as the "kept man" of a married couple, their organizer and PA and bedwarmer whenever they needed one… never an equal in love, always second best with both of them. He should throw off their embrace and walk away, and go back to his own universe with his head held high, proud and self-sufficient — and alone, so deeply wounded that he would probably never dare to let himself love again. 

And he did love: oh, how he loved! He forced his eyelids open, and as he gazed into Jack's solemn eyes he couldn't help but reflect that half a meal was after all better than no meal at all. And they were being honest with him, weren't they? They weren't promising him anything they weren't fully prepared to give: sexual pleasure, and a lifetime's companionship, and the love of a friendship that had seen him at his worst and still endured. Was he really going to throw that away because he couldn't have everything he wanted? 

 _Jack loved him_. He could feel it so clearly even now that he'd gained a little distance, warm lusty affection glowing through KITT and down the datalink. It wasn't the soul-deep operatic passion he shared with KITT, or the hot yearning that clustered around the thought of Gwen in his mind… but it was still more than Ianto had dared to hope for, a solid connection that Jack clearly didn't want to lose. 

More than he'd dared to hope for, and so much less than he wanted. KITT hummed quiet sympathy; Jack, being Jack, offered no apologies — only that friendly bond, honestly tendered. Ianto could feel them waiting for his decision, watching him with one unblinking immortal gaze.

 _##I have nothing to go back to.#_ # He closed his eyes again and could feel fresh warm tears on his cheeks, rapidly cooling in the night air. _##Nothing, without you…##_

 _// <<Then stay.>>// _They spoke almost with one voice, their united souls in perfect agreement. _// <<Stay, with us — and be our lover and our friend, for as long as life lasts.>>//_


	4. Memories

Reserved and resolute, dispassionate, never letting emotions get in the way — that had been Ianto's ideal for as long as he could remember. Seeing his mother and father fight, wildly irrational against cold rationality, he'd decided early which side of the battle he wanted to be on. And at this moment, faced with such a clear turning point in his existence, his rational faculties performed a set of lightning-swift calculations: he'd found love twice in his life, which strongly argued that he might well find it a third, and this time with someone who would make him the centre of their universe instead of just a friend with benefits. _He could walk away from this._ And his life, contrary to the savage ache in every fibre of his being, would _not_ be over. 

Around him, within him, Jack and KITT sounded a harmonic note of concurrence. _// <<You've always had the choice, Ianto — and the choice is yours now. We would never force you. You know that.>>// _

And he did. In so many ways it would have been easier if they actually _had_ tried to force him — then he'd have something solid to resist, instead of this seductive temptation clad in the guise of their friendship. 

 _// <<And you know that if someone else came along, someone you loved enough to make them yours alone, we wouldn't stand in your way.>>// _Jack kissed him again, but this time he tilted Ianto's head down to press that kiss to his cheekbone: paternal, fond. _// <<We want your happiness: with us or without us, it doesn't matter.>>// _

Ianto shook his head against the gentle frame of Jack's powerful hands. "I —" 

_— can't, I don't, I shouldn't —_

— and then KITT caressed the edges of his painful uncertainty with fingers made of delicately crafted ebony, their precise joints fashioned of cold fire so different from Jack's savage burning, and simply said, _//Remember.//_

So Ianto did. 

He remembered the first time Jack had seen them kiss, him and KITT, in an upscale hotel room on New Year's Eve almost a year ago: the way Jack's eyes had lit up, his whole face shining with lusty joy and heartfelt gratitude. He remembered lying open beneath Jack's hungry thrusts, shamefully (deliciously) exposed, his cock burning in KITT's hand and KITT's mouth so cool and clever on his, and he remembered Jack's incandescent gaze, and his wondering moan: _My beautiful boys… oh God, so hot…_

Then a flash forward almost three and a half months, to April 11th 2009 — the cruise ship _Marie Goldham_ , and KITT trying to throw himself over the railing into the Bristol Channel, driven mad with guilt by the Truth Squid's telepathic attack. Ianto had heard every word of it:  _He loves you, Wearer of the Veil — from the highest reaches of his mind to the darkest depths of his soul… he loves you more than light, more than air, more than the life he can never lose… but it's all a lie, and it's all your fault… one word: **pheromones** …_

He'd wrapped his arms around the struggling screaming android from behind — _Let me go! I have to, it's the only way to protect him!_ — a creature easily ten times stronger than anything merely human, and clung with all his might, hissing in its ear: _No! If you go, I go too! He'll lose us both!_ KITT had collapsed in his arms, but he'd held on, dragged down to the deck as KITT wailed like something that had a heart to break, curling up into a tight ball in Ianto's embrace while all the lights under his skin went black…

Less than three hours later, descending into the deepest level of the Hub to hold a conversation with KITT as best he could: KITT had worked his way into the tangle of the Core's coolant system, as far as he could possibly get from human contact without disobeying Jack's direct order not to leave the complex. Ianto had tossed one of Jack's blankets down into KITT's prison, infused with Jack's scent as well as his own, and whispered into the darkness: _We'll be back for you. We'll be back…_

The ten days that followed, most of it spent in Jack's refuge under the floor of his office, keeping watch over him through the agonies of pheromonal withdrawal. Gwen had been there too, the only person other than Ianto allowed into Jack's den to watch him sweat and shiver, curse and weep, pace like a caged tiger or huddle trembling on his bunk. But strangely, she didn't figure much in Ianto's memories: what he recalled most clearly was the heat of Jack's skin, the tears of rage and despair in his wild eyes, the smell that came off him in waves like the distillation of desperation… and Jack's question at the very end, whispered into the cover of his own hands pressed to his face: _What am I going to do, Ianto?_

 _You're clear now,_ Ianto had replied carefully. _You can do anything you want._

But Jack had shaken his head, a bitter laugh like razor blades in his throat. _That's just it — I can't._ After a long moment he'd raised his head from his hands, to look at Ianto with eyes more haunted than ever. _The only sane thing to do is send him as far away as I can, to the ends of the Earth, or further — but…_ He'd looked away, his broad proud shoulders sinking in on themselves, and in that instant Ianto had realized the truth: that the pheromones had been purged from Jack's system, but the love remained, as strong as ever — maybe even stronger, after being tested in the fire of the past week and a half.

It was the moment when Ianto could have moved to consolidate his own position. He could have told Jack that he'd take care of everything, and then done so, packing KITT up and doing exactly what KITT had proposed: consigning the android to eternal entombment in the deepest flooded level of the abandoned Braich Goch slate mines, far north of Cardiff. He could have swept KITT under the carpet just as he'd swept away so many other inconvenient messes, and Jack might even have let him do it…

And yet all he'd been able to remember, in that instant when Jack looked away as if ashamed, was the way Jack and KITT shone when they gazed at each other — and the way they'd opened their arms to let Ianto in, time and time again. Yes, it was only friendship. No, it wasn't what he wanted — arguably, it wasn't what he deserved. But time and time again he'd made the choice to answer their call, and he hadn't even had to think about grabbing KITT and saving him from the cold depths of the Channel, had he?

Therefore he went to Jack's side and sat down on the bunk beside him, shoulder to shoulder. _So you go to him,_ he said, and when Jack looked round as if surprised he'd smiled with genuine warmth. _Just like I told him you would. You go to him, and you make things right._

Just like that, he'd given up any hope of one day making Jack entirely his own — he'd decided that he loved Jack so much that Jack's happiness really was more important than his own. It wasn't rational, but it was nonetheless the truest thing he'd ever done.

And the radiance of Jack's smile, like the sun breaking through the clouds at the end of the Great Flood, had made Ianto's unarticulated sacrifice almost entirely worthwhile.


	5. Grace

Ianto had felt a chill on that warm April night, witnessing Jack's happiness and comprehending everything he'd given up for the sake of a love that he was certain would never be reciprocated. It was warmth that brought him back to a cool summer night on a planet inconceivably far away from that small dark room: the heat of two bodies pressing even closer against him, and the glow of gratitude enveloping him from two separate but united minds.

 _//You saved me,//_ KITT confirmed. _//And in so doing —//_

 _< <— you saved us,>>_ Jack concluded. He tipped Ianto's chin up to kiss him again, sweet and lingering. _< <But we never knew the choice you'd made, until now.>>_

Ianto glimpsed the edge of an unrealized probability gliding through the dense undergrowth of Jack's mind, and he frowned at the shape of it. "You would have left Torchwood?"

Jack answered in kind, aloud: "I couldn't have stayed, not when there were so many memories of him facing me at every turn. I probably would have sealed myself away with him, down in that mine — if he couldn't breathe the free air and live in the light of day, then how could I?"

KITT's smile shone like sunlight in their link, his ethereal caress of Jack's metaphorical flank tender… but there was ruefulness there too. "And I couldn't have stopped you, could I?"

"Nope," Jack said cheerfully, but Ianto could hear the edge of tears in his voice. He tightened the framing grip of his hands on Ianto's face, mentally prompting him to open his eyes; when he did, he found Jack smiling in a way that didn't quite touch the visible memory of past desolation. "But he _was_ saved, and we owe that in large part to you. Anything in our power to give — just ask us, and it's yours."

Ianto had to squeeze his eyes tight closed again as another surge of raw emotion flowed from his depths, seen by his partners with a clarity that made all their previous sexual intimacies dim in comparison. He rode it out, the pain of numerous losses past and present overlaid with the treacherous gleam of hope, and when he spoke again he sounded small and lost in his own ears: "You'd really let me stay?"

They laughed together in the link, cool blue flame over a shimmer of red coals: not in mockery, no, but with unabashed delight in Ianto's desire.

 _//For as long as you wish,//_ KITT vowed, rationally centred, while Jack added passionate emphasis: _< <In every way you want to be with us.>>_

He didn't want to cry again, he was already going to have a murderous headache as it was. Tears still slipped free, but Jack and KITT's hands continued to hold him steady as he tried clumsily to project: _##Now that you have — this — I didn't think you'd want…##_

This time Jack laughed aloud, and KITT sent a rapid-fire series of impressions into the link, images wrapped up with sensory data: past sexual interludes, the heat of Ianto's body moving between them, the way Ianto's shy smiles and sweet moans as he was being touched by two lovers at once lit Jack up inside, the way Jack's joy in the sex-play made KITT's processes sing. He saw himself through their eyes, asleep between them in the afterglow, his head resting on Jack's shoulder and his face at perfect peace.

 _< <You?>>_ Jack finished the interrupted sentence, both amused and tender. _< <You thought we'd want to keep that all for ourselves? Ianto… did you really think we didn't have enough life in us to offer some of it to you?>>_

A different memory flashed through Ianto's mind, one far less pleasant than the glow of skin against skin — John Hart, speaking similar words: _He never gave you enough, did he? Typical. He has so much, all eternity in fact, and he can't spare even a little bit for his friends…_ Instantly he was afraid, because he could see the memory mirrored in KITT's mind, passing through him into Jack — but Jack only held him tighter, and said aloud: "He was right about one thing — I don't give it away to people who don't deserve it. You… _you_ deserve it. You always have."

"So," KITT concluded with his usual businesslike demeanour, although his right hand still lay over Ianto's heart like a benediction, "will you?"

"We'll need to wait five days," Jack continued, "to perform the ceremony of _khana tohn_ — but when we do, everybody will know where you stand with us."

_// <<The khana tohn, companion for as long as love and life lasts, free to pursue his own assignations and one day to marry in his turn, if it suits him to do so… less than husband, but far more than mere friend… a haven and a home for you, while you pursue whatever path you desire —>>//_

"It could be dangerous," KITT warned. "Jack's already survived one assassination attempt —"

"Yeah," Jack snorted, "and you smashed the assassins into pieces so small they couldn't be found with a —"

Ianto's eyes opened wide. "Wait," he said, a flare of bright alarm in the link, " _what?_ "

"Last week," Jack said, and Ianto could feel the mental equivalent of a dismissive hand-wave. "Tuesday, was it? Sometime after lunch, anyway. Blowfish poison in my drink. Ugh! Not the most pleasant way to go…"

Ianto stared at him in disbelief. "And you didn't _tell_ me?"

"It was taken care of," KITT said evenly, in a tone of voice both physical and mental that sent a rush of ice water down Ianto's spine, along with the distinct impression through the link that a sufficiently dramatic example had been made of the attempted murderers to warn off anybody else from touching what the Black General had marked as his own. 

Jack's smile in response was full of pride, along with a wholehearted appreciation for whatever it was KITT had done. Ianto was pretty damned sure he didn't want to know. In the link, an even greater warmth wrapped around Ianto's spirit from both sides, reassuring with love, while Jack continued aloud: "You'll be safe — as safe as we can make you."

"Which might not be safe enough," KITT stated, ever devoted to the facts of the matter. "But perhaps it will be some comfort to know that if you die in our service, we _will_ avenge you."

More ice water, this time flowing over Ianto's heart, as he remembered KITT's words on many previous occasions: _I was created to protect and preserve human life._ "Doesn't really seem like your style…"

He felt KITT shrug, against his back and in his mind. "That was then. I'm a General now, and a politician — and need I really remind you that I'm at war? If an example must be made in order to maintain power, I can't afford to hesitate. Millions of lives depend on my decisions."

Jack was nodding — but of course he would, he'd never been one to balk at breaking a few eggs in order to make an omelette… and yet behind KITT's calm words, under the steely determination, Ianto could feel serious qualms of unease, and a genuine undercurrent of regret for what the android had felt compelled to do in order to protect his people. It was something so unexpectedly _human_ that Ianto had to stop and stare, and KITT's mind gazed back at him, covering up nothing, apologizing for nothing.

 _//This is what I am now,//_ he said in a clear voice, speaking both to Ianto and to Jack — and suddenly, beneath the clarity, Ianto sensed genuine fear, a whispered cry unvoiced: _//But only because I have to be, oh, tell me that I'll be forgiven in the end, that all my trespasses will be wiped clean…!//_

 _< <##KITT!##>>_ They moved as one. KITT leaned into them both, singing one quick dark chord of grief, and Ianto stood firm at Jack's side to bear the A.I. up. It was a timeless moment, the three of them fully interlocking — and it was also a moment of marriage, a catalyst that filled Ianto with a calmness like a hit of ether. His pain and his doubt vanished, washed away in an instant of perfect service: all he felt was harmony, and the grace of his partners surrounding him with love and protection, because he had chosen to give himself to them at last.

The jewel of Jack's True Name beckoned, just out of reach. Ianto let it be. One day, perhaps, the privilege of knowing its intricacies would also be his. For now…

KITT recovered within a heartbeat, and withdrew his data extraction tendrils from Ianto's temple with another silver glide and a tiny shock of bereavement. But Jack was there, his broad hands shifting down to clasp Ianto's shoulders, and when Ianto opened his mouth to protest KITT's half-stepping back Jack silenced him with another quick warm kiss. Wordlessly he watched KITT reach around him to open the synth-ruby clasp at Jack's collar, the one inscribed with their personal crest of the Stag and the Star, and wordlessly he let Jack turn him in place to face the android, whose thin-lipped mouth was quirked in a smile as he carefully fastened the jewel to Ianto's collar in turn. 

"There," he said, tugging the lace to lie just so on either side of the mark of ownership. His profoundly alien eyes, red-in-black, rose to meet Ianto's gaze as his smile widened. "Everybody except Gwen, Tosh, Owen and John will know exactly what this means, present lack of actual _khana tohn_ ceremony notwithstanding. If I were you, I'd be prepared to field some questions about what you plan to wear, who's on the guest list, and whether or not the Dragon King will be hosting _that_ reception as well."

"I don't —" Ianto began through the choke of joy rising in his throat —

— _home, I'm_ ** _home_** —

— then cast aside all restraint and caught hold of KITT's waist with both hands, pulling the dreaded Black General close for a yearning open-mouthed kiss. KITT stiffened in brief surprise, then hummed with pleasure and leaned into the interplay of their mouths, curving his own slender hands round Ianto's waist while Jack's warm joyful laughter and strong arms encircled them both. 

Ianto was still kissing KITT, and thrilling to the hot caress of Jack's lips to the nape of his neck, when a deceptively mild voice from the archway shattered their shared moment: "Oh my… I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"


	6. Betrayal

An entirely different thrill raced through Ianto's entire body: the adrenaline rush associated with suddenly spotting a coiled viper in the path immediately ahead. The sound of John Hart's voice froze him where he stood, and he felt an answering tension in the bodies bracketing him, their cherishing arms around him suddenly becoming a protective rampart that shielded him from John's sardonically amused gaze — or tried to, anyway.

"Although I have to say," John continued, sauntering toward them in his rakish outfit of red and white and gold, "that it's pretty obvious I _am_ interrupting something." His smile was venomous, his tone lightly chiding. "Couldn't you at least get a room? I mean, what — you haven't even been married four hours and you're already fooling around with the —"

Not that Ianto was looking him in the face: he was keeping his own eyes averted, ashamed in spite of himself. He fixated on the top buckle on KITT's black coat, while KITT gazed up at him with an expression of concern and petted his right hip soothingly, and Jack issued a low-growled challenge: "What do _you_ want?"

"A little love?" But the tone of Jack's voice had stopped his advance. "I mean, if you're just giving it away…" His arms opened at the edge of Ianto's vision. "C'mon, group hug!"

The prospect of being touched by the vicious little psychopath was enough to make Ianto shiver with revulsion, although he kept it locked down — still, the slightest tightening of KITT's embrace told him that KITT had detected it, of course KITT would, the android was a walking medical scanner…

Jack's tone grew softer, but there was violence not-so-thinly veiled behind each word, his gaze still fixed on John. "Why don't you two go back inside? I'll be there in a minute."

Which was enough to make Ianto look round — to his right, away from John's smirking face. "Jack —"

"It's okay." He gave them a final little squeeze, then released them and took a step back, turning to face his former partner in the Time Agency. "This won't take long."

"Oh, this should be good," John muttered skeptically, but KITT was already moving, his left hand curved around Ianto's right elbow, drawing him along. Ianto cast a final glance back at Jack, who offered a flash of a smile and a wink that did little to quell Ianto's profound unease. KITT tugged at his elbow again, and after another half-second's hesitation he let himself be led away, past John — who looked them up and down in a way that made Ianto's cheeks flush hot — and across the wide shadowy balcony to the nearest brightly lit archway. 

"I'm sorry," KITT said quietly when they were out of reasonable earshot of a whisper, "that wasn't how it should have —"

Ianto shook his head. "Not your fault," he murmured, and couldn't resist a final glance back: Jack and John were still facing off, and Jack's glare was practically setting the night air ablaze

KITT stopped just inside the archway, still partially in the balcony's shadows. He turned to face Ianto again and took the human's face in both hands, looking slightly up into his eyes — the android had always been about two inches shorter than Ianto, and the heels on KITT's sleek black boots weren't high enough to make up for the difference. "Maybe not, but this isn't how this situation should be unfolding. You should have walked back into that ballroom between us, escorted, with your right hand on my left and your left hand on his right — that's the traditional formula for this situation, and would have made our change of circumstances perfectly clear. As it is…." He stroked Ianto's cheeks with his thumbs, and smiled apologetically. "If either of us was to lead you into the hall that way, alone, it should be Jack. I'm afraid you and I should part company here."

Ianto nodded, but reluctantly. Glancing sidelong, he saw that John and Jack had moved right into each other's personal space and were talking intently, the pitch of Jack's voice sharp, John's voice a lazy drawl. "Maybe we should just wait —"

The blue traceries of light at Jack's temples visibly flickered, and KITT shook his head decisively. "We'll find you later," he promised before letting Ianto go with a final caress to the human's throat, fussily adjusting the lace collar, his fingertips lingering over the synth-ruby's crest. "And then we'll do this properly, in front of four hundred and twelve witnesses, not counting the servants… although I'm sorry to say that you won't be joining us for what comes after the public festivities." The quality of his smile turned wide and wondering, his mechanical eyes flaring with brilliant crimson circlets as the inscriptions of blue light at his own temples telegraphed mind-in-mind contact with his life-long mate. "We have… several new factors we must accustom ourselves to. I hope you'll understand."

Ianto only had to spend about a half second contemplating the possibilities of sex with the kind of telepathic bond he'd just experienced, a bond that was only a pale echo of what Jack and KITT now shared, before nodding emphatically. "No doubt," he said, and with a final nod and a friendly smile KITT turned away, striding back into the hall with his shoulders squared inside his military coat and his sleek blond head held high, its crown of wedding gold reflecting every trick of the light. 

Ianto drew a deep centering breath and counted to five before following —

— and indeed, the reaction of the reception guests upon seeing his new synth-ruby accessory was everything that KITT had described, and more. In short order Ianto Jones, who had previously been regarded merely as a low-level functionary in the entourage of the Black General's new husband, became one of the prime attractions of the ball. He was barely able to squeak away long enough to collar Gwen, Tosh and Owen and explain what had happened in a quiet corner, and the reactions of his teammates was pretty much what he'd expected: Gwen and Tosh stared in disbelief, then squealed and hugged him and bombarded him with questions, while Owen kept staring in disbelief for the rest of the evening, although his calculating gaze suggested that he'd have a list of more pointed queries for Ianto to address in the morning.

And when, just before the Last Dance that preceded Jack and KITT's departure to the _Delicacy_ and the far more informal party that awaited them in orbit, the glowing couple had sought Ianto out to offer him their hands with kingly dignity, he'd accepted the invitation and let himself be led out in front of the fascinated audience with only minor qualms at being so blatantly the centre of attention, even if only for a few intense minutes. After all, based on the various conversations he'd been involved in over the last two hours he was reasonably certain that during the _khana tohn_ ceremony he'd be treated like royalty himself, dressed in the finest clothes and fussed over and made the centre of attention, like the bride at a traditional Earth wedding from his own place and time. 

 _A place and time,_ he realized as he stood on the dais between his lovers, cheered and saluted by the glittering crowd of Revolutionary leaders, _that isn't mine any more._ He looked to his left, at Jack's blue eyes twinkling at him, and to his right, at KITT's encouraging smile. _A place and time that will never be mine again…_

***********************************************

Six days later Ianto wanted nothing more than to be back on Earth, hunting weevils in the sewers under Cardiff and cleaning up endless messes for Torchwood. He wished with all his will that they'd never come to this wretched dimension, that he'd never learned where he really stood with Jack Harkness… or with KITT, who was now forever lost.

"Jack," he whispered, gazing down at the tousled dark head in his lap with eyes raw from weeping and lack of sleep. He combed his fingers through Jack's hair and tried again, pleading through the limited empathic link of the _khana tohn_ : _##Jack, please… wake up…##_

Jack didn't stir. His usually lively eyes remained dull and fixed, staring straight ahead into the dimly lit cell they were currently imprisoned in, seeing nothing: not even Owen, stretched out unconscious in the far corner. The web of light that should have shone at his temples was pitch-black now, and all Ianto could hear in the link was a dissonant background hum, the sound of a mind wiped out, or else sunk so deep in despair that it amounted to catatonia.

 _I did it to save him,_ John Hart had told them when Jack had finally stopped screaming. _If I hadn't, the Adjutant would have gotten rid of him some other way — cast him into the Greater Void, or found some way to lock him up in that bloody UniMatrix of theirs… And you should be thanking me, Eye Candy: after I take you back home, you'll be the light of his life now that the Sex Toy's out of the way…_

A sob hitched in Ianto's chest, because although they'd been tens of light years from the UniMatrix when KITT had entered it in an act of willing self-sacrifice — had let his mind be wiped out to close the quasar known as the Devil's Eye and save billions of lives — Jack's impassioned reactions combined with John's dispassionate description of the Adjutant's plans had provided a picture far too clear. KITT had been betrayed by his own closest ally, and had severed the _khana karr_ bond to spare Jack the consequences — or at least he'd done his best, because the bond of _khana karr_ was indelible — and Ianto had no idea whether Jack's current devastation was a result of losing KITT or the destruction of his own mind by second-hand contact with the annihilating energies of the UniMatrix. 

He knew nothing: not John's ultimate plans, not where Gwen and Tosh were, not even where the _Delicacy_ was currently heading — nothing, except that he was alone. Nothing, except that he hadn't even gotten to celebrate his "wedding night", because the Revolution messenger had arrived to announce the opening of the Devil's Eye before the wedding feast was even over… 

A tear dropped onto Jack's cheekbone. He didn't so much as twitch, and after a long moment Ianto slowly brushed it away with his thumb. 

_##Jack, please… don't leave me… Jack, I need you…_ **_we_ ** _need you…##_

Somewhere in the hissing shattered ruin of Jack's personality… was that a faint gleam of crystalline light? Was it KITT, his immortal body imprisoned in the UniMatrix, yet some trace of his relentless mind still intact? Did he know they were there? Was the Black General going to rise from his grave, rally the troops and come to reclaim his own?

But it was gone now, and Ianto wasn't even sure that he hadn't just imagined it in his desperation and exhaustion.

He closed his eyes against the outer darkness and bowed his head to let his desolate mind slip away too, just for a little while…

[THE END]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, for anyone who's curious...
> 
> Each of the Mechan Generals -- the White General, the Red General, the Blue General and the Black General -- has their own personal uniform. This is KITT's, as the Black General:
> 
> http://www.fantasmagoria.eu/scorpio-coat-y364bk-female-2-2-2
> 
> The only difference is that KITT's boots are a tad more slimline, with less of a heel. :)


End file.
